Quoth, said.
HARRY'S RICHES.
One day, our little Harry spent the morning with his young
playmate, Johnny Crane, who lived in a fine house, and on Sundays
rode to church in the grandest carriage to be seen in all the
country round.
When Harry returned home, he said, "Mother, Johnny has money in
both pockets!"
"Has he, dear?"
"Yes, ma'am; and he says he could get ever so much more if he
wanted it."
"Well, now, that's very pleasant for him," I returned cheerfully,
as a reply was plainly expected. "Very pleasant; don't you think
so?"
"Yes, ma'am; only--"
"Only what, Harry?"
"Why, he has a big popgun, and a watch, and a hobbyhorse, and
lots of things." And Harry looked up at my face with a
disconsolate stare.
"Well, my boy, what of that?"
"Nothing, mother," and the telltale tears sprang to his eyes,
"only I guess we are very poor, aren't we?"
"No, indeed, Harry, we are very far from being poor. We are not
so rich as Mr. Crane's family, if that is what you mean."
"O mother!" insisted the little fellow, "I do think we are very
poor; anyhow, I am!"
"O Harry!" I exclaimed reproachfully.
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